The Angel Weeps
by Lyra Script
Summary: "No one realizes that the stone cries..." Just a short little story about the loneliness of a Weeping Angel. Hope you enjoy :)


I will never understand why I am the way I am.

I did not ask to be like this.

A demon on Earth; the things that I have done, the people I have hurt, the lives I have ruined. All of these things just serve to prove to myself that I am what I never wanted to be. A monster.

I am stuck in my own version of Hell, and I am alone. So alone...

I do not seek consolation for the fear that I will hurt another. One more innocent soul lost, because of what I have become. I try to avoid the crowds, the flocks of people that gather on every corner of the globe. But no matter where I hide suddenly they are in front of me, and I feel the urge. The need to drain the defenseless creature of any potential energy, any time that they might have, no matter how large or diminutive the amount might be; it is impulsive, and I cannot control it. I send them where they do not belong, and I steal the time they leave behind. And afterwards...

I weep.

No one notices. No living thing sees the tears as I shed them, because they cannot fall when I am watched. They freeze upon my face when I am looked upon, and as the humans blink or turn away they roll off. But no one realizes the stone cries. They notice my movement, my shift in position, they point and stare, they see this... but they do not see the sadness that falls from my eyes. Perhaps, when there is one who is truly observant, that being will realize the pain that reflects from my soul. Perhaps they would try to help, but by then, they will have blinked; they would be gone, and I would be alone once more, to steal the energy and cry.

I have been alone for so long.

At first I craved it. It was so long ago the exact details escape me but when I realized what I had become, what I was, I only wanted to be by myself. I did not want anyone or anything to see me as I was, as a monster, and I did not want to hurt anyone, so I tried to hide. I found caves, holes in the ground, the peaks of the highest mountain tops. But still the innocents found me, and for that they lost their lives. I tried so hard to get away, to protect them, even to destroy myself to preserve those who did not deserve what I did to them. Nothing I did had any effect, and I continued to hurt people, and I just wanted to be left alone.

So much time has passed since then, and so much has changed. I do not want to be alone anymore. I crave a companion, somebody or something to talk to, to relate to; someone I cannot destroy. Anybody at all, so I can ease the burden of so many years in solitude, even if it is only for a moment. But I cannot even converse with my own kind, for fear of their safety and my own. There is not a being in existence that I cannot harm. And so, I simply stand year after year, with only myself, my thoughts, to keep me company. I cannot say for certain, but I suppose that's the way it is with my whole species. We keep ourselves occupied to make up for the hole where a friend would be. We are called The Lonely Assassins, and both terms fit us perfectly. Both terms fit me, both against my will. Yes, I am an assassin, but because I must be, because I have no control over the fact. Yes, I am lonely, but not by my own choice, not because I wish to be. Without even the comfort of my own kind, I am forced to wander through time.

I am the loneliest creature in the universe.

Often when I confront a creature, accident or otherwise, there are a few seconds where I register the emotion. Mostly it is confusion, sadness, anger. Occasionally I sense admiration, for the sculptor who was able to make an angel that seemed alive. As they blink it hardly matters what they felt. But it helps me to feel just a bit normal; that tiny flicker of emotion, so different from the empty void of sadness and hopelessness I usually feel.

I have tried many times to just do what must be done. Steal the energy, then move on to the next. Don't dwell on things that cannot be understood. They are humans; inferior, stupid, naive. They are being sacrificed for a better future for our kind, a life for those of us who wish to live forever.

I am not one who desires immortality.

I would feel so much better if my miserable excuse for a life could just end. I am a monster. Monsters do not belong.

I do not belong.

I just want to be rid of the feeling of constant isolation. I do not want to continue to live every day hating myself because of something I cannot control. I no longer wish to be alone. I do not want to cry by myself, no one to wipe away my tears. I do not want to be covered in this never-ending shroud of despair.

Is it wrong for a monster to wish to be happy? To want to shed tears of joy instead of misery? Is it fair that any creature on this planet should live in complete solitude? I just want to be able to talk to somebody, or even to be able to observe someone for more than a split second without their lives being ruined. Are these small things too much to ask? Is it wrong to not want to be destructive in nature, to not want to destroy everything I touch?

Angels are supposed to be saviors. But my species and myself, we are the opposite. Our deceitful faces offer the promise of heaven, but instead we damn them to an equivalent of Hell. Our open arms suggest salvation, but what is one supposed to do when those arms close around them and whisk them to a far away place they've only heard of from history books? We lie scattered around the word, beacons of hope for those with hardly any left, then we smash their hope against the stormy rocks of a different time. Angels are symbols of goodness and purity, but my kind have been corrupted by the desire to outlive everyone and everything on this planet, and we all are selfish and evil creatures. So we continue to wear the mask of heaven to hide the demon beneath the surface.

That illusion is what I hate the most. The face of an angel, used to disguise the stone-cold heart that does not beat. Don't the humans realize what we are? Don't they see the shift in the corner of their eyes before their loved ones disappear? Standing in a cemetery with only the two of them, who is there to blame but the statue that's changed it's position? The humans trust us; they think we are guardians, they think we protect them. They do not suspect that we are the ones that rip apart lives, because our shapes cast the belief that we are meant to mend the broken hearts we leave behind. They cry out to us to protect them from harm...

When we are the ones hurting them.

I do not want to do this anymore.

So I sob with them. As their tears run tracks down their cheeks, so do mine. They call out, so many sounds soaked in sorrow, and I am gifted and cursed with the knowledge of how my own pain would ring against my ears. And for that short amount of time, there is another just like me; one who weeps out of sadness and anger, out of the complete loneliness that threatens to shatter the hearts that are already cracked from strain and age. But they are free to seek help, consolation, comfort from another to help them cope, to heal the countless fractures that were formed.

I cannot. My heart is left to fall to pieces, crumbling beyond repair like the rock that it is and always will be.

I will spend the rest of my innumerable days hating the evil that I fulfill against my will. I will forever long for a friend, a companion, a way to lift the loneliness. But I will continue to cry in solitude, because the humans don't realize that the stone cries.

No one notices that the angel weeps.


End file.
